A Whole New Universe
by Lucia R
Summary: Feliciana Vargas was helping her allies in a war in the year 2040. In the middle of a battle, Feliciana is sent back to a time and period where she does not exist. She has to keep her cover low and has to return home before the universe is disrupted.
1. Chapter 1

Breathing and static were the only noises that were ringing in Feliciana's ears. The sounds were her breathing, as a matter of fact, and the static came from the radio piled inside the belt on her hips. She had no armor on her body as she had penetrated the base, for she lost it all before entering the ventilation shaft. Each step she took left a small echo in her ears, and she cringed after each one, fearing being heard. She kept the gun close at hand, holding it just in front of her sternum, in case anyone ambushed her. In her ear, the static from the bud made a clicking sound, and then the static continued before a distorted voice came through from the end.

"Feliciana, we are in. Over." Feliciana sighed in relief at the sound of the German's voice; the worst of her fears of the German and Englishman being caught had been overruled. Now it was time for them to make it safely to her.

"Good, is the radar working? Over," Feliciana waited on the silence of the static, and the sound of her heart pulsing faster as she noted a lighted hallway, maybe a half a mile ahead of her, in the base. No sound was audible from the hallway yet. On the end of the radio, Feliciana heard a click again, and then a voice.

"Yes, you have movement ahead. Over." Feliciana wasn't surprised. The lighted hallway gave that factor away.

"I'm not surprised. I see light at 12 o clock. Should I advance upon it? Over."

More silence. Feliciana's anxiety was abasing by the moment. She stopped dead in her tracks as she waited.

"Yes. Over." There was another click before the static echoed in her ear again. Then there was a click, and the German's voice came on again.

"Just… Be careful Feliciana, we're almost there. Don't lose yourself, and take care, alright? Over."

"I always do, Ludwig. Over." She was greeted by silence and static again; and she stood for a minute, anticipating perhaps one more phrase. Standing silently alone in the dark only reminded her that Ludwig never told her he loved her before a serious battle or plan. She wished he would, but there were always good intentions behind the hesitation. She remembered the first battle they went into as a couple, she had only received a kiss on the lips, and she asked him why he wouldn't tell her he loved her.

"_If I say I love you, it's like saying goodbye. Like I'll never see you again. I won't think for a second that that's true. When you're safe in my arms again, which you will be, I'll kiss you and tell you I love a million times." _

She inhaled a few more times before continuing on down the hallway with the echoes of her steps, the static of the ear bud, and the silence of being alone. It wasn't silent too much longer as she progressed down the hallway, soon there were voices speaking in foreign tongues; tongues that Europeans couldn't understand, but the voices were familiar all the same. Her heart beat inclined, her breathing stumbled as she inhaled and exhaled, attempting to keep the nervousness quieted down.

Then she took a step.

And then a noise aroused, and she cursed herself in every bit of Italian that she could concur. At first, her body became paralyzed in terror, and then the next thing she knew her body was spread along the wall as she tried not to gather more attention. It was too late. Footsteps approached the intersection of the lighted hallway and the dark hallway Feliciana was in. Her breathing increased to silent grunts, and she listened to the silence, the static in her ear, and the footsteps approaching. Suddenly, a voice shouted out.

"Who's there?" It was the Japanese man's. Suddenly, all her bodily functions ceased; she didn't breathe, she didn't speak, she couldn't even think. Kiku was not easily tricked by the silence, a wise old man never is. Feliciana was also smart enough to comprehend that Kiku's next move would be to check the hallway, which is why when she heard footsteps from behind her; she knew what her next move would be too. She turned around to see Ludwig and Arthur coming down the hallway, both full blown in armor. She held up her hand in a fist, and they both stopped. Ludwig stared at her in surprise, and now had a questioning look on his face. Feliciana stared into his blue eyes, and gave him a face of overwhelming sadness.

"I love you," she mouthed, and then she ran into the hallway, holding up her gun, and firing the last of her bullets at the Japanese man. Of course, all of the bullets either missed, or slapped on his samurai sword. Each bullet left a lasting imprint in his sword, but his sword left an even longer lasting imprint into her shoulder blade. Feliciana didn't recall much; it all seemed too fast. One second her shoulder was intact, feeling perfect and healthy, the next second a blade had been struck down into it, pinching her muscles as she cried out in pain. She wrenched over, falling to the floor, almost expecting a final blow as the Japanese man rose his sword again to strike her. Instead, a bullet pierced his side, which was enough to throw the man onto the wall in shock. The German came running out of the hallway, yelling out words that Feliciana couldn't quite understand. All she could make out was, "Get her safe!", which was good enough for her to complete some of the puzzle pieces to his frantic screaming as he fired more bullets at the Korean who was advancing upon him. Kiku had picked himself back up, re-gripping his blade, and going to strike at Arthur who had begun incantations Feliciana was sure that no one could understand. A shield appeared around the three of them, and Ludwig clasped his arms around Feliciana as Arthur continued to chant.

Feliciana's hand reached up to her shoulder, and when she pulled it away she found blood coating her hand. She could feel the liquid running down her chest to soak her shirt, and when Ludwig pulled his face away from covering her body from any backfires of the magic, his face was too, covered in her own blood. She cried out, and began to whimper. She bit her lip, and tried to fight back her fear. This was no time to be upset, but she couldn't help but fall into her natural instincts. Ludwig saw this change of expression in her face, and then wiped his face to smear the blood off. He gripped her face between his hands and kissed her so hard that she could feel his teeth through her lip. She opened her mouth, inviting his tongue for the briefest moment of a second, and he pulled away. She heard static, she heard yelling, she heard gunfire, she heard the incantations, and then she heard herself speak.

"I love you."

For a moment, Feliciana swore that Ludwig choked up.

"We're going to be alright Feliciana, do you hear me? You'll go first, and then when I'm done here, I'll come after you. I promise you, do you understand me? We're going to be just fine."

Feliciana counted another kiss, then a third on her lips before he finally pressed his lips tightly against her forehead. With her good arm, she clung to his body, and embraced him as much as she could.

Fire was breaking out; the other nations had arrived and were flooding the base. The Japanese man and Korean had retreated to a secure location in the base, stocking up for what was an unexpected fight. Arthur's voice was growing deeper, almost demonic, and his incantations grew louder. Ludwig stared into her eyes for a second before letting go, and re-gripping his gun.

"Ludwig!" Feliciana cried out; blackness was pulling her away from Ludwig as he ran into a hell with the other nations at his side. Feliciana felt every inch of her body collapsing into shock as the blood drained from her wound, and from the magic pushing her away from the life she had grown to love so much. She let out another cry before she felt the icy snow grip her in its arms, and the reality she had seen only minutes ago had disappeared. Every sound had stopped, except for the sound of her breathing and her pounding heart. Looking up, she saw a distorted pair of blue eyes, and blond hair over her body, surrounded by two men. He was holding her strongly by the shoulders.

"Frau, frau! Do you hear me? You're going to be alright. You're going to be alright."

Feliciana closed her eyes. She was going to be safe, but not alright.

First she groaned; she didn't want to open her eyes. She wanted to sleep forever with the pinch in her shoulder; she didn't want to open her eyes. She kept them shut, but began to breathe with a bit of pain as she woke from unconsciousness; she didn't want to open her eyes.

"Shh," she heard a voice say almost trying to soothe her groans and grunts. It was a male voice, almost stupid, and Italian. In fact, she was certain it was an Italian accent, but it wasn't her brother's. Perhaps it was a soldier? She was unsure. "She's going to be alright Mr. Germany, si?"

Germany. Ludwig. The connection came to her brain, but her body didn't react. Every muscle in her body ached; her neck pained, her abdomens cramped, her legs didn't want to move, but most of all, her shoulder cringed and cramped and cried out. It made her want to scream, but she refused to with all her might. All she wanted to do was open up her eyes, and kiss Ludwig as hard as she could, and thank him, and embrace him, and tell him how much she loved him.

"Be quiet, Italy! For God's sake! I'm trying to keep her alive! Who knows how long she's been hurt? And God knows why she was at her base?"

A shock of pain pressed on Feliciana's heart. He sounded as if she didn't know her, as if she was just a stranger. She was to force her eyes open and confront him. She felt more stings in her shoulder, and the sound of scissors and clamps frantically at work. Tense the muscles, release them. Suddenly, she found herself creating this pattern with her body. Then she worked up to her face to tense and release those muscles. Suddenly, she found herself blinking her eyes open. Everything was hazy at first, she found herself blinking multiple times and looking around. There was nothing around her but a blur.

"Ve, I am so sorry, Germany!" the Italian complained, whimpering like a child.

"Just shut up, Italy! Shut up!" the Ludwig sounding man complied. Neither the Italian nor the German had noticed that her eyes were just barely open. Then her eyes widened as she blinked a little more, and the world around her had grown clearer. It was also now clear to her that the Ludwig-sounding man also looked, smelled, and ignored everything around him when he got focused on something like Ludwig. That something, right now, was stitching up and mending her shoulder. It was pointless to try to get his attention, but she tried anyway.

"L-Luddy," she whimpered. Her good arm reached up, and she felt a pinch. She grunted slightly again, but she pushed forward anyway. Contact was made as her finger tips briefly brushed his face, and she smiled slightly. His eyes cast from her shoulder to her in confusion that Feliciana couldn't understand. "Ludwig, it's me." It struck her. This man did not know her, this Ludwig wasn't aware of her own existence. The magic that Arthur had used had thrust her into a time continuum that wasn't even where she was born. This Ludwig was not her own. Her hand fell down to her side, and another bolt of sadness struck her heart.

"I'm sorry," she grunted as he continued to work down on the shoulder, "I mistook you for someone else." Except she didn't, and she had at the same time. She saw an empathetic look appear on the man's face, and he went straight back to his work. There was a moment of silence before the Italian man looked down at her and winked.

"You are _molto bella, l'amore._"

Feliciana gave a weak grin by the flirtation bestowed upon her, and chuckled slightly. This wasn't the first man to compliment her, but it also wasn't the man she wanted to compliment her. She appreciated it when Ludwig would attempt to speak Italian to her, and flirt with her in her own language; he, of course, would only mess up the vowels with his strong, specified tongue. Her smile dissipated as she remembered this. And when she would take sips of beer from his bottle without his permission, the way she would take a piece of pasta and put it in his mouth, while stealing a bit of his meal, and how he would be so cool with the actions.

"_Grazi_," Feliciana replied, and Ludwig looked to her. His blue eyes scanned her face, and she found her pulse intensifying, and her breathing increasing. He wasn't hers.

Then another man walked in. A dark haired, Japanese man.

She screamed at the top of her lungs in fear, and pushed away from the two, now three men, will all her might. She cursed, she screamed as loud as she could.

"Salvami! Per favore, non lasciare che mi faccia male! Malato bastardo! Stronzetto! Scappare!" she pushed from Ludwig and from the Italian. Ludwig was gripping her within his arms, and she felt tearing in her shoulder again. She cried, the tears streaming down her face. "Per favore! Per favore! I won't let him take me again! I won't! Let me go!" she slammed her feet into the man who looked like Ludwig, and pressed from him with all her might. Her finger tips pushed and she couldn't break free from the grip of the strong German. He pushed her down onto the table.

"Miss! Calm down! You're badly hurt!" she struggled in his arms, but he was stronger, and held her down. "Please!" Her body refused to carry on and she gave up. Tears rolled down her face, and she beseeched to be let go. She whimpered, and wailed in the empty base, beside the four of them. "In the name of God, oh please. Please. Don't let him kill me. He's already tried. He's already. Don't let him take me away. Don't let him kill me!"

The German only cast a mindful glance at the Japanese man, and the Italian sat in the corner fooling around with the machinery that he didn't understand the mechanics of.

"Japan, would you mind?" Germany asked, and looked straight into the eyes of the Italian woman. The Japanese man grabbed what appeared to be a syringe, and filled it with clear liquid. He quickly walked toward Feliciana, who in comply only kicked and beg more.

"No! No! No!" she fought. Her legs swung in the air, and the syringe plunged deep into her arm. She looked up into the German's eyes, and found something in them strange; something almost controlling and upsetting, something she hadn't seen in a long time. She stopped moving for a second, and took a deep breath after coming to a realization. Her breath resulted in short gasps, as her lungs clung to some sort of air entering her lungs, which they could barely attain. "Don't, stop, looking at me. Please," she said to the German. "Please, please… Stay with me." Her struggle ended, and she was left again unconscious in the arms of a man that she used to know, but had been gone for a long time.

The men all left one by one, in shock and awe as to the event that had just occurred in the flash of a few minutes. The last to leave was the Italian, who found himself staring at the dog tag around her neck. He took it from her neck, and lifted it into his view. "Feliciana Vargas." His eyes widened as the gears in his brain began to move, but they were stopped short by the voice of an angry German who had obviously discovered the pasta covering the Conference table. He left the girl and the dog tag alone in the bed, who could hear nothing now.


	2. Chapter 2

Section Two

Feliciana woke up in a large, white, sheeted bed. In her arm, an IV was pumping fluids into her body. The fluids probably contained sedatives to soothe her nerves, water, and blood, judging on the behavior she had the previous time she had been awake. There was a window to her left, the curtains opened wide and the sky shimmering sunlight onto her face, and the snow shined white into the room. It made it more lively, and whiter. Feliciana closed her eyes tightly, before blinking her eyes open fast. She grunted and looked down to her clothes; they were gone, and replaced with a clean white night gown. She realized the one thing she really craved there and then was a good shower. How long had she been out? Possibly a few days? She could smell the stench on her body; she smelt like death, and drying blood. The oils built up in her hair and her face, grimy with friction. Thankfully, rotting flesh was not one of the scents she recognized from the fragrance waving its way up her nasal passages. She wanted to throw up let alone as it was.

Feliciana had come eventually to the realization that she still was not in her fiancé's home, but in the home of a Ludwig of another universe. One where she was a man, and one where the time period was still 1943. She remembered when Ludwig, herself, and Arthur had all become really close when discussing battle strategies, and what Arthur had mentioned when he began talking this nonsense of parallel universes. She remembered him talking about how many possibilities there were in this world, but it was eventful if two universes ever came in contact, something about the world imploding, or other. Feliciana shook her head and realized how much of a mess she was truly in. She was surprised that nothing had happened so far to change the world around her, but if anything happened, if anything slipped or went wrong, if anyone found out who she was… What would happen? She cringed at the bare thought of the ones she loved dying because she couldn't control herself. It was decided that she could not be Feliciana Vargas, or Italy, but she had to become someone completely different. Her sanity was at stake, but so was the universe's. Go figure. The Universe had to be left in her hands.

"Hello?" she murmured, and grunted some more. She couldn't sit up herself, her body was sore with aches and pains. "Hello?" she called out a little louder. And a voice did respond.

"Right here." It was deep, and quiet itself. She knew the voice all too well: Ludwig's. She struggled in her bed a little, trying to passively grasp the attention of the German who was all too well wrapped up in other business whilst supposedly looking over her.

"Do you mind helping me, per favore?" The German looked up; finally realizing the struggle Feliciana was undertaking to seat herself up. Feliciana heard the German set down what sounded like a file full of papers and the scratching of a chair as it scooted back. His footsteps toward her were tranquil and powerful, seemingly slow as he walked. Suddenly, his body left a large black shadow, giving Feliciana a sense of despair. He wasn't visible to her eyes in the darkness he produced, but his power certainly was. Terror and tension radiated off his body almost as easy as blood runs through veins, and it certainly did chill Feliciana to the bones. Feliciana clawed the bed sheets with her fingers and bit her tongue in order to hold back her natural instincts. If it had been her Ludwig, she might have felt more relaxed. Then again, her Ludwig would have been at her side when she awoke, and would have been clutching to her hand for dear life. Instead, every hormone in her body urged her to get out of this man's presence, like a siren howling that the bombs were headed over.

"Answer my questions and I'll consider it." Feliciana scoffed, she recognized the booming powerful voice, only now she realized there was an undertone of fear, because he knew how wrong he was for his conquests. If he only knew how deep in shit he was. She turned her face in the other direction. She had changed just as much as Ludwig had changed in the one hundred years since WWII, and there was no doubt that she was used to interrogations. Now, though, she really didn't have much to hide, except creating the butterfly affect leading the end of the universe if she slipped up one name.

"Why are you here?"

"Who said I wanted to be?" she turned her head to look up at him. "I shouldn't be here. I should be home."

The door opened squeakily and closed. Feliciana looked to her left and saw the Italian man had entered alongside the Japanese man. Feliciana tightly clasped her eyes shut, and shook her head, trying to disintegrate the memory of the bombs, the firing, the deaths, and the blows caused in the past hateful 10 years. Would there ever be an end?

The German motioned to the men to sit down, as they both did, and his gaze returned to Feliciana.

"Where's your home?" Feliciana chuckled, and thought about it.

"My home. That depends on what you consider home," she sighed quietly and turned her gaze to the window where an obvious snow had occurred in the night.

"Where do you live, then?" The German clarified. Suddenly, his face was in hers. He had snuck around to her face and stuck his nose nearly directly in front of hers, and she was evinced with his blue eyes, his facial structure, and the hair she had known and loved. He was younger, she could tell, but the same man none the less. There were fewer wrinkles in his face, his eyes were not as worn from stress, and his temper was not as controlled. It was most definitely him from the time period they were in.

"I live with my fiancé at his home in Germany, although originally I'm from Italy. We met during the war," she answered. She turned away, tearing up. "I honestly don't know if I have a home anymore. I don't know if he's alive or if he's dead." Acting was never something Feliciana was good at, but distorting the truth was going to be a means of survive for now. It was all true, but she knew the time period that it was indeed possible to not understand information regarding whether or not your husband or fiancé, or brother or father, or friend or neighbor was alive or not. The last she had seen of her fiancé, he was running into a pit of fire into war with her blood on his hands. She bit her lip, and felt tears well up in her eyes for a second.

"Your fiancé. So you're a bride to be. Then what were you doing out here?" The German sat down on a stool next to the bed. He rested his chin on his hand, piercing the back of her head with his eyes. She turned again to confront him, her eyes spewing hatred at him.

"I told you, I don't know why, and even I did, I wouldn't want to be here in the first place!" Feliciana grimaced as a striking pain hit her in the shoulder again, and she lifted up her torso in shock. "I'd rather be with my fiancé. I'd rather be with him than with any of you. I don't know why I'm here." She began to curse in Italian at the pain running through her body. If Kiku gave her tetanus from his sword, death would be inevitable. "You said you cleaned the wound, right?"

"I never said anything like that," Germany said dryly. Feliciana began to laugh in response, and turned away from the German to the ceiling closing her eyes.

"Oh, go figure. Such gentlemen," Feliciana turned her head back to Germany, "You know what? I don't want to sit up anymore. You can leave now," she told him bitterly. She smacked her lips, and the German smiled and shook his head.

"Italy, is this what all Italian woman are like? And I thought you said German woman were scary," Germany laughed and smacked his leg. "I'm not finished with you. You would figure a woman living in my country would be a little bit more respectful to me. It gives me reason to believe that you're lying."

"Maybe I'm just pissed because every time I look at you-," Feliciana cut herself short, and left her mouth gaping open. She closed it, and shifted her eyes around the bed, but they always found their way back up to the blue eyes of the German, so similar in shape, size and color to her Ludwig's. Hell, he was her Ludwig, but he wasn't at the same time. It made her want to rip the hair out of her own scalp, and she turned away from the German and looked back up to the ceiling. "Forgive me, I'm just emotional. My fiancé," she cut herself short, chuckling, "I think he's dead. I think. The last I saw him, he was running into battle. I couldn't move, or go after him, or stop him. It was like I was stuck sitting there. He tried to help me with the blood, but he held me in his arms and transferred me to someone who could save me, because sure as hell he couldn't. Not this time. So he runs into these flames with his men, and with what he was going up against…" Feliciana began to choke up, feeling the tears rushing through her eyes. "He was always stubborn. So stubborn it made him idiotic, now that I realize it. I always ran away, and I couldn't that time. I couldn't move. So I had to watch him run into his death, and all I wanted to do was run right alongside him. The only time I wanted to run alongside him, I couldn't even move. Imagine that? Imagine that." Feliciana felt the tears running down her face, and she couldn't lift her hands to wipe the tears away. It pained her too much. So she wailed out loud into the room of the three men; the Japanese man who would inflict the wound into her, the Italian who was her at the same time, and the younger, far different man who would have become her fiancé, if this was her own reality. The German looked to the two other men. "And you look so much like him, too," Feliciana belt out against her own morals. She gasped when the words breached her lips, but she kept crying. Maybe it had finally hit her, maybe reality, if reality even exist, struck her dead in the heart. "Dio mio!"

The German man looked over to the Italian and Japanese man. The Italian only stared at the woman, almost in fear (he certainly knew how Latin woman acted in times of peril over the loss of husbands or boyfriends, and he did not want to be around that strange kind of energy), and in sadness. The Japanese man shot the German a look of sympathy, and motioned his head to the woman, as if to help her. The German stood up, and hoisted his arm under the crying Italian and the other around her stomach to sit her up. She cried out more, but this was from the pain. The German man attempted to soothe her, and hush her, but it didn't seem to work. Instead, it made him flustered and frustrated at the emotional, hormonal woman. When she had been sat up, he reached into his coat and pulled out a handkerchief to dab at her eyes.

"Please, miss, I understand that you are under some stress, but I am certain your fiancé is fine," his voice was cold and seemingly unkind. It only made her want to cry out more, but a newer, fiercer feeling came from her, and she stopped crying. The German reluctantly pulled back the handkerchief, and stared down at her, now also with a hint of empathy. She was indeed, beautiful, even though she was severely distraught. Her hair and eyes almost reflected Feliciano's exactly: light auburn hair and hazel eyes, but her hair was wavy, and bounced down to her shoulders now that it was no longer up (like it had been when they found her). Right now, it was dirty, clotted with mud and blood, as well as grease and oils from not being bathed. Her face was red and splotchy from the tears she had shed, and her gaze was intent on her feet, almost unfocused. The bandages Germany had placed across her chest to fully cover the stitches and gaping hole in her shoulder had covered her upper body, while also wearing a pair of pants (donated by Italy himself). The blanket covered her body up to her hips, but she was strong, not strong like most of the girls in his homeland, but quite muscular none the less. She was a mess, and under some serious distress.

The room had become deadly quiet after her outburst, but was quickly interrupted by the cheery Italian.

"Ve~ Miss, if you even want to talk about your fiancé, you can talk to me!" Germany through a palm to his face, obviously disappointed that the Italian would say something along those lines after the woman had been very upset about the man. Germany was surprised to see the woman chuckled and smile, and she looked at the Italian, granting him a cheery smile herself, or at least attempted to.

"I will," she responded. The Italian man had just reminded her of something else that she would have to try and keep under control while she was here, using the term "ve" would not be allowed out of her lips as long as she could help it. She hadn't used it since the mafia days, but there were times when it slipped out, and it would have to be under constant maintenance by herself to not let that occur. It would be too much of a strange similarity between her and the Italian and the whole "he looks just like you" slip would make it very easy to piece out any other strange similarities between the two. Still, it would be a hard puzzle to riddle out, yet she knew that the Japanese man could not be fooled for long.

Feliciana could actually move her arms within a week of being at the base, which was proven to be a surprise to the men there. All of them, mainly Germany, urged her to be careful and slow with her shoulder. She refused. If she had learned anything from spending her time with Ludwig was not to be strong, but to be a fighter, and she damn well would be one. Italy had constantly visited with foods from her homeland that she had not eaten in a long while, which made her extremely happy. The Italian was happy to see the woman happy, and continued doing so, even against Germany's wishes. One time, the Italian walked in on her out of her bed after a few days, seated by a window, looking out at all of the snow. He knew who she was thinking about, quite literally.

"How did you meet your fiancé? Ve~?" the Italian asked. Feliciana slowly and quietly turned her head to look at the Italian. She had been crying, and he regretted asking her about it. "Ve~! I'm sorry! I'll just be goin-."

"No, wait!" Feliciana stood up, wincing at the sharp pain in her shoulder. Italy stopped dead in his tracks, and turned around to look at Feliciana, who smiled at him. She sat down on the bed, and patted the bed. "Sit. I'll tell you." She had been expecting this kind of question, so she decided she would go with how she had met Ludwig in her own reality. If she had met him in WWII, then she was going to go with her WWII story of how she had met the man, with a few, minor tweaks. Italy plopped himself down on the bed beside her, causing her body to rise up in the air, and she winced again. Italy pressed his hands into his lap, and leaned forward in yearning to hear the story. Feliciana laughed, remembering how much like him she used to be.

"Okay, so I was working as a nurse back at home. I've seen men of all kinds of conditions, I've watched men die, and watched them live, too. But this one time, this man came in, and he was probably in one of the worst conditions I've seen. He had bullets in his chest, and his legs, and he couldn't breathe very well. I was put in charge of overseeing removing the bullets and taking care of him until he recovered, and I wasn't even certain that I could. I walk over to the table he's at, and his breathing was so slow and shaky, I was so sad. He was a big man, tall, muscular, and he was a fighter. I could already tell, just from the expression on his face… It was stern, and strong. When I came over, he looked up at me, and he grabbed my wrist. I didn't even notice that he was struggling to grab me, because I was so wrapped up in figuring out where to start, since I was examining his chest. After he grabbed my arm, I looked down at him, and he looked like he was going to say something.

"His eyes… His eyes were some of the bluest eyes I had ever seen. He had hope, I could tell. And when he was done stammering and stuttering, he speaks, and he says to me 'Am I dead? I can't believe I'm alive, when there's an angel taking care of me,'" Feliciana laughed, and saw the smile on Italy's face, "So, I told him, 'No sir, you were just in battle, and we're going to fix you up real good,' and I gave him a smile. He didn't smile back up at me, but he sighed, and said, 'Wow. You must be the most beautiful girl on this world then, if I'm not dead.' I smiled when he said that, and went back to trying to fix him. He didn't really say anything else to me; of course, I had drugged him with tons of morphine and had to take care of the bullets in his chest. There were a lot of men there that day… Bleeding and dying… And screaming," Feliciana shook her head, "But that was how I met him. It's funny, really."

"Ve~ But that doesn't say how you two ended up on a date, or with each other," Italy cried out. Feliciana scoffed, giggled and laughed. She laughed whole heartedly, something she hadn't done in a while. She even had to hold onto her stomach from laughing so much, she didn't understand what was so funny about the sentence, but she found it hysterical.

"No, that's not how we ended up on a date. See, when you're a nurse, you get all kinds of remarks like that. Many of them are deprived of someone who isn't trying to kill them other than their men when they're fighting all the time, so to see a face that isn't covered in dirt and grime, or roughened by war is a nice sight. Even if that face is covered in dirt and grime, and roughened by the war. I certainly know mine was when I first laid my eyes on my fiancé. My hands were covered in blood, too. It was just a bad day. But there was just something… I couldn't explain it," Feliciana had pretty much told the entire story down to the bone. Except that instead, in the original story, she had actually known Ludwig from before, it was just the first time she had met him (her brother took care of most of the nation's military tactics) so she was crying when she had to go take care of him, and he had said all those things, but had been severely drugged. Still, it was a nice story, and it had shocked Ludwig when he had found out who she really was.

"Then how did you two end up dating?" the Italian questioned her, plopping over in the bed, sending her into the air again. This time she called out in pain at the sudden movement. The German ran into the room, she was obviously louder than she had expected.

"Italy! Leave the woman alone!" he seethed through his teeth. Italy's head rose up to look at the furious German.

"But Germany, she was just telling me-," Italy sputtered in fear, only to be interrupted mid-sentence.

"I don't care what was happening! She needs to rest! Come along now, it's time for training anyway," the German exited the room; more like stormed from it, but the Italian man lay on the bed unmoving and confused. Feliciana felt a smile press upon her lips, almost knowing the routine herself. The German would re enter the room, yell at him, and then the Italian would follow, whining and complaining. A few days worth of time had led her into the flow of the house. Even though her relationship with Ludwig was very similar to the relationship Germany and Italy shared, Ludwig was a bit softer and easier on her than Germany was with Italy. The stressed yelling and anger were kind of the way he showed his anxiety and worry, which Feliciana found somewhat cute when she and Ludwig had been getting to know each other. She got to re-experience it watching the two of them have one sided bickers. Of course, this prediction played out in her head went the same way in reality.

The Italian and the German left. She could still hear the German scolding, and the Italian whining as the door closed behind them and they went out into the snow. She assumed that the Japanese man was with them as well, and she was glad of it. She couldn't stand to see his face. Out her window, she could see the three of them making their way out to the field. She pressed herself up and walked over to the window again, and sat down on the sill. Drawing back the curtain she watched as each of the men ran laps to warm up. After the first lap, Italy had collapsed on the ground already tired, and the German began to yell at him. Feliciana chuckled and went over to the bed, seating herself in it before lying down, and then sleeping so soundlessly.


End file.
